Every time I see this picture, I just laugh even harder.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Elitists
I think it's fine to be elitist about certain subjects if you really are that intelligent and know what you're talking about--when you're around other "legitimate elitists." But I don't think you should be elitist around people who don't know as much about that particular topic, and I especially don't think teachers should be elitist around their students. Obviously a) it makes the less-knowledgeable feel bad, but in addition b) it makes them strive to be elitist too.
I have a teacher (unnamed) who is very intelligent and well-informed in many subjects. He's someone I'd choose as one of my three lifelines on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire." He certainly has a right to be elitist on a plethora of matters, because he knows so much, and I imagine it's frustrating for him to be around people of lesser intellect. However, he's a teacher...and purposefully or not, he definitely affects his (perhaps more pretentious) students to adopt a similar elitist attitude. Yesterday, he was talking about poetry, and how there is a lot of Bad Poetry these days...mostly about "love, being lonely, and cute puppies." Okay, I suppose that's true, but for those of us in the class who aren't avid readers of poetry (aka. most of us), it's not fair to thrust this condescending mindset onto us. We laugh good-humoredly when he makes statements like this, because he's funny...but the next time we see a book of love poems at a store, we'll automatically remember his semi-snobby remark, and be too embarrassed or proud to think of giving it a chance.
Maybe that's a decision we would have made anyway, with or without the teacher's influence. But the fact is that being subjected to elitist thinking makes us more narrow-minded, and for students who are still learning and developing their own opinions, I don't think it's a good idea.
So I am trying very hard not to ever be a snob about any subject on which I am not a full expert (in other words, nothing).
Except the Twilight series. I really can't help but be condescending toward that.
I have a teacher (unnamed) who is very intelligent and well-informed in many subjects. He's someone I'd choose as one of my three lifelines on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire." He certainly has a right to be elitist on a plethora of matters, because he knows so much, and I imagine it's frustrating for him to be around people of lesser intellect. However, he's a teacher...and purposefully or not, he definitely affects his (perhaps more pretentious) students to adopt a similar elitist attitude. Yesterday, he was talking about poetry, and how there is a lot of Bad Poetry these days...mostly about "love, being lonely, and cute puppies." Okay, I suppose that's true, but for those of us in the class who aren't avid readers of poetry (aka. most of us), it's not fair to thrust this condescending mindset onto us. We laugh good-humoredly when he makes statements like this, because he's funny...but the next time we see a book of love poems at a store, we'll automatically remember his semi-snobby remark, and be too embarrassed or proud to think of giving it a chance.
Maybe that's a decision we would have made anyway, with or without the teacher's influence. But the fact is that being subjected to elitist thinking makes us more narrow-minded, and for students who are still learning and developing their own opinions, I don't think it's a good idea.
So I am trying very hard not to ever be a snob about any subject on which I am not a full expert (in other words, nothing).
Except the Twilight series. I really can't help but be condescending toward that.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Friends 2
There's friendship, and then there's intimacy. Until now, I never made a distinction between the two, but now I realize it is possible for one to exist without the other. To me, friendships are never stagnant...they are either growing or diminishing, and while growth should feel natural and genuinely easy, it also takes action. As time passes, friendships come and go. It's a cycle, and while a change can be initially upsetting or disappointing, you should trust that ultimately, it will be justified.
That being said, intimacy is maybe a whole other issue. Friendships fluctuate, but true intimacy does not easily disintegrate. Unlike friendship, intimacy can be stagnant, but I don't mean "stagnant" as in immobile, but rather, immovable--rooted and steadfast.
As I grow older, I notice various people edging slowly out of my life. Friend A, with whom I used to talk every day is now someone I see once or twice a year. Friend B comes along and fills the shoes of he who left. Whether the leaving is intentional or not is beyond the point. We all have excuses--busy lives, diverging paths. What's important is to acknowledge the consequence of these excuses. There comes a point when an inactive friendship morphs into a nonexistent one. Friend A, I used to come to you for every problem, big and small, significant and childish. Then when our communication lessened, I narrowed my dependence on you to more specific needs--I came to you with issues that "only you" would understand. And now? I feel like you hang in my life by a thread...Issues that once would have led me directly to you--they don't, anymore. They take a step in your direction, then hesitate and lead me to Friend B instead...because Friend B is usually there, and you are usually not.
But what I notice is that our intimacy is still here. In fact, it's as strong as a rock. I don't tell you things, but I could. I don't share with you every boring detail of my day, from when I wake up (it took me 5 tries to put in my contacts this morning) until I go to bed (re-watched my favorite episode of Big Bang Theory), but I could. I don't call you when I feel like crying or giving up, but I could, and believe me, I want to. Our friendship has changed...and you realize it, too. The rare times I do hear from you, you say, "This incident made me think of you...I want to tell you about it." But then, you don't. Consequently, I don't know about your life...at all. But I could. Would we be very much altered if I did? You don't know my life, but you still know ME better than most people
I can't stay quality friends with someone without a mutual active effort to keep the relationship alive. Eventually, it stops working, no matter how fond two people are of each other. But intimacy lives on.
Friendship and intimacy are not inseparable. It's just such a shame when one exists without the other.
That being said, intimacy is maybe a whole other issue. Friendships fluctuate, but true intimacy does not easily disintegrate. Unlike friendship, intimacy can be stagnant, but I don't mean "stagnant" as in immobile, but rather, immovable--rooted and steadfast.
As I grow older, I notice various people edging slowly out of my life. Friend A, with whom I used to talk every day is now someone I see once or twice a year. Friend B comes along and fills the shoes of he who left. Whether the leaving is intentional or not is beyond the point. We all have excuses--busy lives, diverging paths. What's important is to acknowledge the consequence of these excuses. There comes a point when an inactive friendship morphs into a nonexistent one. Friend A, I used to come to you for every problem, big and small, significant and childish. Then when our communication lessened, I narrowed my dependence on you to more specific needs--I came to you with issues that "only you" would understand. And now? I feel like you hang in my life by a thread...Issues that once would have led me directly to you--they don't, anymore. They take a step in your direction, then hesitate and lead me to Friend B instead...because Friend B is usually there, and you are usually not.
But what I notice is that our intimacy is still here. In fact, it's as strong as a rock. I don't tell you things, but I could. I don't share with you every boring detail of my day, from when I wake up (it took me 5 tries to put in my contacts this morning) until I go to bed (re-watched my favorite episode of Big Bang Theory), but I could. I don't call you when I feel like crying or giving up, but I could, and believe me, I want to. Our friendship has changed...and you realize it, too. The rare times I do hear from you, you say, "This incident made me think of you...I want to tell you about it." But then, you don't. Consequently, I don't know about your life...at all. But I could. Would we be very much altered if I did? You don't know my life, but you still know ME better than most people
I can't stay quality friends with someone without a mutual active effort to keep the relationship alive. Eventually, it stops working, no matter how fond two people are of each other. But intimacy lives on.
Friendship and intimacy are not inseparable. It's just such a shame when one exists without the other.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Ministry of Fear
Favorite Quotes:
It was a long time before they told him about the war, and that involved an enormous amount of historical explanation. What seemed odd to him, he found, was not what seemed odd to other people...the fact that we were at war with Italy shook him like an inexplicable catastrophe of nature. "Italy," he exclaimed. Why, Italy was where two of his maiden aunts went every year to paint. He remembered too the Primitives in the National Gallery and Caporetto and Garibaldi, who had given a name to a biscuit, and Thomas Cook's. Then Johns patiently explained about Mussolini.
Ha ha ha.
When he thought of her it was with an absurd breathlessness. It was as if he were waiting again years ago outside...and the girl he loved was coming down the street, and the night was full of pain and beauty and despair because one knew one was too young for anything to come of this...
"Is life really like this?" Rowe asked. Mr. Prentice leant forward with an interested air, as though he were always ready to abandon the particular in favour of the general argument. He said, "This is life, so I suppose one can say it's like life."
Her face looked ugly in the attempt to avoid tears; it was an ugliness which bound him to her more than any beauty could have done; it isn't being happy together, he thought as though it were a fresh discovery, that makes one love--it's being unhappy together.
She looked at him with a kind of middle-aged tenderness, as though they'd grown through love into its later stage.
It was a long time before they told him about the war, and that involved an enormous amount of historical explanation. What seemed odd to him, he found, was not what seemed odd to other people...the fact that we were at war with Italy shook him like an inexplicable catastrophe of nature. "Italy," he exclaimed. Why, Italy was where two of his maiden aunts went every year to paint. He remembered too the Primitives in the National Gallery and Caporetto and Garibaldi, who had given a name to a biscuit, and Thomas Cook's. Then Johns patiently explained about Mussolini.
Ha ha ha.
When he thought of her it was with an absurd breathlessness. It was as if he were waiting again years ago outside...and the girl he loved was coming down the street, and the night was full of pain and beauty and despair because one knew one was too young for anything to come of this...
"Is life really like this?" Rowe asked. Mr. Prentice leant forward with an interested air, as though he were always ready to abandon the particular in favour of the general argument. He said, "This is life, so I suppose one can say it's like life."
Her face looked ugly in the attempt to avoid tears; it was an ugliness which bound him to her more than any beauty could have done; it isn't being happy together, he thought as though it were a fresh discovery, that makes one love--it's being unhappy together.
She looked at him with a kind of middle-aged tenderness, as though they'd grown through love into its later stage.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Turning Point
Today, on the way home from Barnes and Noble, my mom was telling me how she is considering moving out of our house and Saratoga after Mei graduates. This isn't unexpected news for me, and it makes sense--it's not practical to occupy such a large space with only two people. Saratoga is, after all, the most expensive suburb in America (according to Yahoo News a couple months ago). But my parents' main concern turns out to be the stairs. They think a three-story house will be inconvenient and possibly dangerous for them, in the future. Then, it hit me that my parents are in their fifties, and while they exercise every day and maintain a healthy diet, the aging process of one's body is inevitable and can only be countered to a certain degree. When I come home during breaks, I view it as a reprieve from the exhausting whirlwind of school and independence, a chance to have someone else cook the food, clean the floors, take out the trash, and kill the bugs, for a change. But contrary to my parents taking care of me, has the time come for me to start taking care of them?
At the doctor's office, I was filling out some health forms, and my dad mentioned that he sort of has high blood pressure, so I read a brochure about that and wondered, "Should I start monitoring his exercise and diet?" It's such an alien concept...maybe because Mei is a lot younger than me, so I still see my parents monitoring her all the time, being Parents with a capital P, or the "tiger mom" as my mom calls herself now. But if I eliminate this factor and simply observe my parents in relation to me, I realize that the turning point is nearer than I thought.
It makes me sad, to be honest.
I know this is a natural part of life, but...it came too soon. It never really occurred to me to take care of my parents. Yes, when one of them was going through a stressful period, I'd be there for them of course. I'd take Mom out for a walk, or listen to Dad vent for literally hours, and just...be the best support possible. But those were always temporary reversal of roles, and pretty soon, we'd be back to, "Jennifer, did you brush your teeth today?" and "Don't slouch!" I can barely fathom the change as something permanent--checking up on them, instead of them checking up on me...nagging at them to eat well and exercise instead of vice versa. I remember talking to A about her parents last year. They are much older than the average college student's parents, so she is already thinking about their health care, insurance, getting a job near their house, visiting them and so on. At the time, I admired her responsibility and kindness, but it seemed very removed from my personal life...something far in the distance. I didn't imagine myself in her position anytime soon. I still don't think I'm in that position yet...I mean, today after dinner when I suggested going to Barnes and Noble, we were standing around in the kitchen with a huge pile of dishes in the sink, my dad says, "Fine, I'll do the dishes, you two can go now before it closes," and my mom goes, "YAY!" and dashes off to get her keys. I'm very used to seeing them this way--as the healthy, often child-like, cute little Asian parents...but the time IS nearer than I think. There's nothing morbid or depressing about it, I have to reassure myself--just a reminder to pull my own weight, especially when I'm actually at home.
At the doctor's office, I was filling out some health forms, and my dad mentioned that he sort of has high blood pressure, so I read a brochure about that and wondered, "Should I start monitoring his exercise and diet?" It's such an alien concept...maybe because Mei is a lot younger than me, so I still see my parents monitoring her all the time, being Parents with a capital P, or the "tiger mom" as my mom calls herself now. But if I eliminate this factor and simply observe my parents in relation to me, I realize that the turning point is nearer than I thought.
It makes me sad, to be honest.
I know this is a natural part of life, but...it came too soon. It never really occurred to me to take care of my parents. Yes, when one of them was going through a stressful period, I'd be there for them of course. I'd take Mom out for a walk, or listen to Dad vent for literally hours, and just...be the best support possible. But those were always temporary reversal of roles, and pretty soon, we'd be back to, "Jennifer, did you brush your teeth today?" and "Don't slouch!" I can barely fathom the change as something permanent--checking up on them, instead of them checking up on me...nagging at them to eat well and exercise instead of vice versa. I remember talking to A about her parents last year. They are much older than the average college student's parents, so she is already thinking about their health care, insurance, getting a job near their house, visiting them and so on. At the time, I admired her responsibility and kindness, but it seemed very removed from my personal life...something far in the distance. I didn't imagine myself in her position anytime soon. I still don't think I'm in that position yet...I mean, today after dinner when I suggested going to Barnes and Noble, we were standing around in the kitchen with a huge pile of dishes in the sink, my dad says, "Fine, I'll do the dishes, you two can go now before it closes," and my mom goes, "YAY!" and dashes off to get her keys. I'm very used to seeing them this way--as the healthy, often child-like, cute little Asian parents...but the time IS nearer than I think. There's nothing morbid or depressing about it, I have to reassure myself--just a reminder to pull my own weight, especially when I'm actually at home.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Arts and Crafts
***Some more:
Taking a quick minute before V arrives to post some recent arts and crafts:
Activities of the home life:
1) getting my 8 hours of sleep, not from 2-10am like you'd expect, but from 11pm-7am. That's right, I'm waking up at SEVEN O'CLOCK.
2) growing my California tummy (what I call my stomach when I'm at home and in a perpetual state of great enthusiasm for food). California tummy = big and happy; Boston tummy = still big but usually sad
3) unlimited time to practice till I just can't practice no more. I think my family secretly rejoices when I leave the house, so they get some peace and quiet, but I don't care.
4) nature walks--the sunshine of my life, literally.
5) reading my sister's texts and coming up with brilliant ideas of ways for her to ask a very nice boy to Sadies. I didn't really participate in that kind of stuff in high school, so my inner teenager is now unleashed vicariously through my sister.
6) catching up on card-making!
Taking a quick minute before V arrives to post some recent arts and crafts:
Activities of the home life:
1) getting my 8 hours of sleep, not from 2-10am like you'd expect, but from 11pm-7am. That's right, I'm waking up at SEVEN O'CLOCK.
2) growing my California tummy (what I call my stomach when I'm at home and in a perpetual state of great enthusiasm for food). California tummy = big and happy; Boston tummy = still big but usually sad
3) unlimited time to practice till I just can't practice no more. I think my family secretly rejoices when I leave the house, so they get some peace and quiet, but I don't care.
4) nature walks--the sunshine of my life, literally.
5) reading my sister's texts and coming up with brilliant ideas of ways for her to ask a very nice boy to Sadies. I didn't really participate in that kind of stuff in high school, so my inner teenager is now unleashed vicariously through my sister.
6) catching up on card-making!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
CENTIPEDE PART 2
10pm Got home
10:02pm Centipede sighting
10:03pm Panicked, tried not to cry or scream
10:15pm Centipede smashing with fly swatter
10:16pm Recovery
10:20pm Thorough cleaning of apartment begins...take out trash (finally), do dishes (FINALLY), wipe stove and surfaces (FINALLY)
10:50pm Make dinner
11:15pm Eat...
No good. I can't wait to go home.
Monday, March 14, 2011
I love Japan.
Gosh, I love Japan...from its overwhelming cuteness, to the extraordinary generosity and selflessness of its people, to its sheer unparalleled beauty. Pray for this amazing country.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Conrad, Shaw, and Joyce
More awesome quotes.
I should mention that I take the time to type these out, not because I'm bored and want to show off that I read stuff. It's because a) they generate great ideas, and b) maybe by catching some small snapshot of an author's writing and expression, you'll be encouraged to read a book that will change your life. Also, c) MAYBE someone out there has the same favorite moments of literature that I do, and we can telepathically relish in the deliciousness and intimacy together.
What is it about a certain passage in a book that moves me, that makes me nod and go "mm"? An illuminating realization, a description that puts a smile on your face, or oftentimes, a perfect depiction of something I have felt in the past but lacked the eloquence to articulate on my own.
From Conrad's Heart of Darkness-
No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work,--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.
And the lofty frontal bone of Mr. Kurtz! They say the hair goes on growing sometimes, but this--ah specimen, was impressively bald. The wilderness had patted him on the head, and, behold, it was like a ball--an ivory ball; it had caressed him, and--lo!--he had withered; it had taken him, loved him, embraced him, got into his veins, consumed his flesh, and sealed his soul to its own by the inconceivable ceremonies of some initiation. He was its spoiled and pampered favorite.
It was a kind of partnership...and thus a subtle bond had been created, of which I only became aware when it was suddenly broken. And the intimate profundity of that look he gave me when he received his hurt remains to this day in my memory--like a claim of distant kinship affirmed in a supreme moment.
From George Bernard Shaw's sequel to "Pygmalion"-
Eliza...was instinctively aware that she could never obtain a complete grip of him...to put it shortly, she knew that for some mysterious reason he had not the makings of a married man in him, according to her conception of a husband as one to whom she would be his nearest and fondest and warmest interest...to those who have the greatest power of loving, love is a secondary affair...
Gosh, I hope not.
And from James Joyce's The Dead-
She was walking on before him so lightly and so erect that he longed to run after her noiselessly, catch her by the shoulders and say something foolish and affectionate into her ear. She seemed to him so frail that he longed to defend her against something and then to be alone with her. Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.
Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, then fade and wither dismally with age...He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love.
I should mention that I take the time to type these out, not because I'm bored and want to show off that I read stuff. It's because a) they generate great ideas, and b) maybe by catching some small snapshot of an author's writing and expression, you'll be encouraged to read a book that will change your life. Also, c) MAYBE someone out there has the same favorite moments of literature that I do, and we can telepathically relish in the deliciousness and intimacy together.
What is it about a certain passage in a book that moves me, that makes me nod and go "mm"? An illuminating realization, a description that puts a smile on your face, or oftentimes, a perfect depiction of something I have felt in the past but lacked the eloquence to articulate on my own.
From Conrad's Heart of Darkness-
No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work,--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.
And the lofty frontal bone of Mr. Kurtz! They say the hair goes on growing sometimes, but this--ah specimen, was impressively bald. The wilderness had patted him on the head, and, behold, it was like a ball--an ivory ball; it had caressed him, and--lo!--he had withered; it had taken him, loved him, embraced him, got into his veins, consumed his flesh, and sealed his soul to its own by the inconceivable ceremonies of some initiation. He was its spoiled and pampered favorite.
It was a kind of partnership...and thus a subtle bond had been created, of which I only became aware when it was suddenly broken. And the intimate profundity of that look he gave me when he received his hurt remains to this day in my memory--like a claim of distant kinship affirmed in a supreme moment.
From George Bernard Shaw's sequel to "Pygmalion"-
Eliza...was instinctively aware that she could never obtain a complete grip of him...to put it shortly, she knew that for some mysterious reason he had not the makings of a married man in him, according to her conception of a husband as one to whom she would be his nearest and fondest and warmest interest...to those who have the greatest power of loving, love is a secondary affair...
Gosh, I hope not.
And from James Joyce's The Dead-
She was walking on before him so lightly and so erect that he longed to run after her noiselessly, catch her by the shoulders and say something foolish and affectionate into her ear. She seemed to him so frail that he longed to defend her against something and then to be alone with her. Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.
Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, then fade and wither dismally with age...He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love.
I gotta say.
Watching someone you care about succeed at something you failed is a bad feeling. But watching that person fail at something in which you succeeded isn't much better.
"Yeah, I got the acceptance...wait, didn't you?" Not a happy moment, whether you're the one saying it or hearing it.
Why can't we all win?
"Yeah, I got the acceptance...wait, didn't you?" Not a happy moment, whether you're the one saying it or hearing it.
Why can't we all win?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
